Welcome to the Cafe du Watchog, also called RPGen. We're a sandbox style Pokemon site with a focus on everyday life in the Pokemon world. Trainers, Pokemon, criminals, cosmic forces, and normal citizens are all welcome to join in the fun. Kick back and enjoy a cup of coffee with us!

Time has passed. Perhaps too much time. It is hard to tell in the everdark of this place. Wounds and exhaustion make sleep unscheduled, and meals are scattered and snatched in moments of rest.

Time enough has passed that Syder can move, though doing so unassisted, either by people or tools, is slow and painful. At some point the group had made its way to the second story, and no new Guests have yet appeared.

The cut on Damiens face is looking worse every day. He is currently asleep on the floor. Jason slept earlier and kept watch while everyone else, or what he assumes to be everyone else, got some rest. He's been standing in the doorway between the bathroom and the main room for at least an hour.

Randall holds his Raichu to his chest. How they've managed to survive, he doesn't know. But Olive and Roger and Leftie are all fine. He's still pathetic and whiny, but he does it for them. If his Pokemon were to get hurt...

He rests his cheek on Leftie's head. Olive and Roger are dozing soundly-- Olive's in the bath tub at the moment.

A roserade walks into the hotel, looking about and scoffing. He was happy to see some semblance of society in this god forsaken void, but this hardly matched his tastes. Still, it would be vastly better than wandering around that wasteland outside.

Grass and vegetation would extend out from under the roserade, lifting him so that he may sit upon the counter. He rung the bell once before looking at the paper. A sign in sheet? May as well.

Prince Hydrangea would be written in the next available slot as he waited, his handwriting surprisingly fancy for a species with no fingers. Though if he truly was a prince of some place that would be fitting.

When looking back to the carpet, it becomes evident that there is a key on it. in fact, dozens of keys, little golden things with '221' written on them, all sitting in the middle of the gold decorations along the side.

It is almost certain that these weren't there the last time you looked at them.

Hydrangea narrowed his eyes. Either someone had played a trick to make him look the fool, or this place had some odd enchantment upon it. No matter, he'd snag a key and walk into this elevator.

His first priority was to find this room 221 and get settled in. Today has been far too long and he needed his afternoon nap, after all. Though the courtyard he saw on the map was a tempting walk after he made sure where that room was.

Oddly enough, the elevator didn't actually have floor buttons. just an up button and a down one. And the carpet was very clearly not blocking the doors from closing, despite having rolled out from the elevator.

The up arrow is faintly glowing. The down arrow is not. The floor counter proudly displays you at floor one of three.

and up the elevator went. Loudly. not the newest of elevators, this, though maybe the actual metal gates instead of blank doors was an indicator of that.

The floor counter moved from the 1 on the left over to the 2 in the middle... then to the three. and then the numbers behind it started to scroll.

and then the elevator sped up.

maybe thirty seconds later, it stopped. The floor was marked as the twenty second floor, and the door opened to a much more regal looking hallway than the one at the first floor. fancy vases, tapestries and paintings, lots of ostentatious colors, it almost looked like a palace. The sign opposite the elevator pointed rooms 221-229 in one direction, and rooms 2210-2240 in the other, in flagrant disregard for how numbering systems are supposed to work in these kinds of places.

There was fancy golden numbering on every door. And names as well, each with a different title. A king here, a lord there, one was for a self-styled goddess. 223 had the named frantically scratched off, but the title of 'The Usurper' remained. 222 belonged to 'Erika of the Elite Four'.

Being two doors down from 'The Usurper' made Hydrangea far more uncomfortable. Hopefully this hotel kept the unwritten policy of 'don't bother the other tenants', as the last thing he needed was to deal with whoever found themselves with a name like that.

Still, he would work the key and walk in, should the door unlock for him.